At the End of the Field
by cellophane prince
Summary: No one said high school was made for soulmates. Kanji vs. Daisuke; story complete.
1. Pretending

"--wait, no--"

"--mmm--"

"--mmstop! Dude, what are you--? Not here--"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...And so, _therefore_, after extracting the three from the left side of the equation here, we will be able to root out the right side evenly..."

Kanji Tatsumi woke suddenly to find himself sitting in his class. Recovering from his daydream, the boredom of his first-year math classroom flooded back into his brain. He flicked his pencil lazily, his body slouched over his desk even more than usual. He was almost comforted by the fact that he knew he wouldn't get what the teacher was talking about even if was _was _paying attention. Getting held back in school didn't increase his chances of absorbing the information; hell, all it did was prove to him that no matter how often he was told the same stuff, he _still_ wouldn't care. The slow heat of the mid-afternoon reflected from his slicked-back hair, and he could almost feel the bleach burning on his scalp. His scars itched. He looked around the classroom. Half of the other students sitting around him had been observing him with a look of morbid curiosity on their faces, and they all looked away quickly with fright as he glanced over them.

Routine behavior. Most of them must have been surprised that he even bothered to show up today. Truthfully, he was surprised too. His eyes drifted to the window beside him, and he was drawn to observe the girls' physical education class running laps around the soccer field. It didn't make sense to him that while all of the other classes at school included both boys and girls, the PE classes operated with them separately.

He imagined how much those girls must hate running, and how ugly they must feel when they're finished, with their hair pulled back and their chests all sweaty. He imagined them complaining about it to each other, emptily. It wasn't something he normally gave much thought, but maybe it was because of the girls not wanting the boys to see them in _actual humanesque workout mode_ that the facility enforced separated gym classes...He wondered if they really did stink.

Kanji's squint turned slowly into a frown. Guys, girls, why should it matter? A boy wouldn't care about something as insignificant as that, he wouldn't care if a girl is all hot and bothered as much as the girl would herself. Kanji never cared, at least. It made no difference to him. A boy wouldn't be so self-centered.

A boy wouldn't judge another person as a girl does.

In the distance he could hear two of them chirping quietly about something. Or about someone. Him, probably. He moved his head a bit to see them facing forward with their lips fluttering slightly, and their heads leaning toward each other as though pulled by some gravitational force, ears perked.

And if it's another thing girls like to do, it's talk, Kanji thought, resting his head in his hand. And they sure do talk a lot.

He looked over at Rise Kujikawa, sitting a row ahead, not far from him. When the other kids in his class weren't goggling at him, their attention belonged to her...which was more often, considering the time he wasn't there himself. Her long, barely-tamed brown hair fell playfully below her shoulders and curled around her breasts as she sat there, spacing, subconsciously playing with one of the strands. She and Kanji didn't have a whole lot in common, but they got along well. Good friends, really. History was on their side. And if there was any quality she rivaled him with, it was the ability to have all eyes on the room fixated on her and pretend that they were the most uninteresting things in the world.

Except for maybe the "pretending" part.

Feeling his gaze, she turned her head crookedly to look back at him. They exchanged a knowing eye-roll before she turned back toward the front of the classroom.

The people outside were exiting the field. If he squinted, near the end of the disjointed line of gym students he could spot Chie Satonaka and Yukiko Amagi dragging their feet, chatting away leisurely, Chie's hands animated with motion while Yukiko put her hand to her mouth and laughed. Kanji smiled to himself a little. At least he knew that some were different than the others; that girls like Yukiko, and especially Chie, existed too.

He took time to gaze at her. Whatever, senpai was cute. He could admit it. She wouldn't mind as much if a guy saw her in the middle of a good workout. Real spunky. He always liked that. He respected her.

The boys were heading onto the field next. Kanji sat up. He thought he could see Souji and Yosuke lollygagging behind the rest, just like their other friends, but he wasn't sure. Maybe he needed glasses or something. Real ones, not just the ones used for the fog. Oh well, he knew the person he was straining to see probably wasn't there anyway--

"Tatsumi!"

He looked up.

"You look particularly attentive today, though I'm not sure to what exactly."

Kanji slowly got up and stood next to his desk, assuming his usual disinterested posture. "What are the initial three decimal places in pi?"

He scratched his cheek and scanned the classroom, half looking for clues, half to see all the eyes fixated in his direction. He sighed.

"...Pies don't have decimals, ma'am. They have crusts. I don't really know what you want from me."

Smiling sheepishly, Rise scratched her head and suddenly became very interested in the wall.

---

Daisuke Nagase sat on the bench, tightening the laces on his cleats. Soccer practice had already started, and he wasn't about to get behind on his laps around the field. His upper arm muscles vibrated dully with pain. He was late.

"Come on, Nagase!" yelled one of the scrawnier players as he passed by, jogging. "You're the captain but you ain't no coach! Start running!"

A few minutes earlier, in his hurry to get to the field, Daisuke ran down the second-floor staircase on his way outside. His lightweight duffel bag banged against his leg as he hopped down the last few steps. As he was about to pass a first-year classroom, one of the doors swung suddenly outward and collided with his shoulder.

"Oof!"

His center of gravity teetered and his bag flew away. He slowed down, clutching his shoulder.

"What--"

The kid who opened the door stopped in his tracks for a second, before approaching Daisuke cautiously. Leaned against the wall, Daisuke's face was screwed up with pain.

"Sorry, man. Hey, you okay?"

Opening his eyes, Daisuke turned to see who was talking to him. Tall, blonde hair...it was Tatsumi, that tough-guy first-year he'd been hearing about.

"Ahh, y-yeah. I'm fine."

Kanji's brow was furrowed slightly as he stood there, concerned. Surprised, Daisuke was distracted from the pangs in his shoulder for a moment, as he looked halfway into Kanji's face.

_...What's with this guy? Why is he being so nice?_

"..."

They both noticed each other's gaze and looked away awkwardly.

"Well uh--thanks," Daisuke muttered, moving away from the wall to pick up his bag. He walked toward the building exit, less quickly than before, as Kanji remained there, stuck. After Daisuke was no longer in sight, Kanji noticed a few of the other students standing in hallway, staring.

"What the hell're you lookin' at, huh?!"

They scattered as Rise walked out of the classroom behind him. "Kanji-kun? Did something happen?"

He shook his head. "S'nothing. So, uh..." Kanji scratched his head. "Are you walking home right now?"

"..."

Rise looked at him, perplexed. "Y-yeah, wanna join me?" He looked down at the ground, kicking it. Rise's usual cheerful smile returned. "How about it, manly man? Are you gonna protect me from all my rabid fans, or what? You know I can't fight them all off myself."

Kanji's face broke into a cheesy little smile, his gaze returning to the exit door.

"Yeah?" Rise leaned back and forth on her feet, nudging his arm playfully. "You gonna, like, summon Rokuten-Mao? _Zio_ their asses down? I'll locate hidden treasures for you on the way, maybe we'll find some good noodles at Aiya..." She couldn't hold back laughter any longer. Kanji smirked.

"There's something I wanna take care of, but if you start walkin' I'll catch up," he said. "Okay?"

Rise cocked her head to the side. "Uhhhhhhh, okay! I'll just pretend I'm Chie and drop-kick 'em all 'til you find me. Ho-cha!" She imitated a kung-fu warrior, lifting her leg slowly in the air and kicking Kanji lightly so that his body swayed. He continued to watch the door Daisuke had disappeared through.

Assuming her composure, Rise adjusted her school bag over her shoulder and walked toward the school's main entrance, playing with her hair, as the other students still looming in the hall turned to watch her.

Kanji began walking toward the exit.

---

"Alright, we're gonna finish warming up by doing some drills, then we'll get a little game together. C'mon, you guys know the routine."

If there was one thing Daisuke was good at, it was his ability to jump into the midst of things and perform just as well, as though he had been there the entire time. His tardiness to today's practice had little effect on his captaining of Yasogami High's soccer team and he assumed his role with considerable finesse, as usual. The other players grumbled.

"Was kinda hoping he wouldn't show..."

"Ah, whatever man, s'not that bad. He's a lot better than that last guy, Kanawa-san. Remember him? He didn't do _anything_. And where's that Ebihara girl been, wasn't she supposed to be managing the team for the rest of the year?"

"I don't know, she's probably been ditching practice to go to the mall or something stupid like that."

"Dude, you know if you had the chance, you'd go right along with her in a second! You'd probably let her dress you up, and..."

Daisuke overheard the other boys amidst their drills as he kicked the ball up from one knee to another. He didn't mind the talking. He wasn't sure why, but he never thought much of the things people ever said about him, or about people he knew -- whether it was good, or bad, or whatever. He never particularly valued words as a valid source of sincerity between people. They were hollow; they didn't mean anything. Actions were all that really spoke, and talking was just a waste of breath anyway.

Left...right, left...right, left....right...left.

"Okay, everybody put your balls away--"

He ignored the boys' snickering.

"--and split up into your teams: six guys in black, six in orange," he said, as he wiped the sweat on his forehead with the bottom of his reversible sports shirt. "Three minutes!"

Daisuke's feelings didn't belong in his voice. The things he just said, he'd said countless times before. Instructions. Barely necessary. How he played today, though, was what mattered most to him; not just to prove to his team that he could keep up with them, but to prove to _himself_ that he could, too.

_If Kou could hear me right now_, Daisuke thought, walking toward the orange team's goal net, _he'd probably think I was the corniest sap in the world. But I guess it's true._

Daisuke looked around at the other players on his team, peeling off their light black shirts to turn them inside out. He paused, and suddenly focused on trying to look disinterested, concentrating on the low-cut grass beneath their feet. As he pulled off his own shirt he caught a glimpse of a person, a tall guy, standing over by the gate bordering the field. He looked again to see...that Tatsumi kid again. He was watching him.

Wha--? Why...?

Leaned against a metal pole, Kanji had told himself that he felt like taking the long way around the school to the main road today. Just to see what the rest of the place really looked like, you know? He intended to catch up with Rise-chan and walk the rest of the way home with her when he happened to find who he was subconsciously following...

Just as his shirt parted with his skin and lifted up over his head, Kanji saw Daisuke looking back at him from across the field. Glancing away quickly, Kanji pushed his weight off the pole and continued walking on his way home, eyes shifting, pretending he just felt like watching the other guys play soccer, only for a minute. That's all.

Just like Daisuke turned away from the fence, rubbing his forehead, suddenly very aware of where the sweat was shining against his body, pretending not to blush.

Except for maybe the "pretending" part.


	2. On Second Thought

He sat on the low concrete bench, feeling his short, messy brown hair with his fingers. The odor of the room was strong, and consisted of the pure and unadulterated aroma of male sweat.

Daisuke zipped up his track jacket and slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and, weaving in between the maze of lockers and boys still stumbling in and out of their shorts, walked out of the Yasogami High boys' locker room into the refreshing air of the early evening. Instead of dwelling on the mud-stained wet weather of the months past, early spring decided to anticipate the hot Japanese sun, and leaves tinted a gentle green ran scattered across the newly-revitalized grass, carpeting the soccer field up to the short chain-link fence that bordered the school grounds.

He stood there and looked around the field, scratching his nose. All the sports teams had finished practice for the day, and except for a few neglected T-shirts and a random backpack lain across a wooden bench aside the soccer goal post, there was no evidence of the place having just been host to a group of teenagers out for some after-school physical activity.

Bag in hand, Daisuke took a moment to pause, to wait, and allowed his mind to wander toward something he'd been avoiding internally for...god, as long as he could remember. From way back before the time he realized it might have been a little bit strange, or unnatural, or maybe even--

"Hey! Doofus!" a voice called out suddenly from behind him. Kou Ichijo emerged from the stuffy locker room, rubbing his sweat-rinsed black hair that threw across his face messily. He tossed his duffel bag onto the ground and put his hands to his hips. "What the hell are you looking around for, dude? You're standing there like somebody died." Daisuke turned his head to look at his bag, his posture straightening slightly, unresponsive. Kou scratched his side unconsciously. "Well, you up for some noodles? I'm starving."

Gathering their belongings, they began walking toward the end of the field.

---

_Weird thing. It's like the more you have somebody on your mind, the more often they just seem to pop outta nowhere._

Dusk was falling upon the central downtown streets of Inaba. The textile place was closed for the day. As he turned the lock on the front door of his mother's shop, Kanji could see two figures entering Chinese Diner Aiya down the street.

_And there he is now with his friend. Of course._

Frowning to himself, he closed the screens on the front windows and began slouching his way up the staircase to his room, staring at the steps. He decided not to eat dinner. His stomach turned. Whether it was a pang of jealousy or something else, he didn't want to focus on something so shallow, so nonproductive.

He closed the door to his room, scratching his hard belly with an index finger. His mother had told him the other day that his room looked like a cave, asking if he was turning into a bat. Or a vampire. He rubbed his scarred cheek; well, he was pale enough. Moving over to the blinds coating the window and opening them a little, he looked around at all the posters and action figures that lay scattered on his walls, his desk, the floor. The action figures were mostly ones he had made himself.

He wondered what Naoto Shirogane had been up to lately.

Her arrival in Inaba had thrown him into a bit of a funk, to put it simply. Perhaps it did the same for everyone else, too. He hadn't seen her lately; he remembered a few months ago, they would occasionally spend the afternoon together after school. Most of all she liked spending time at the river; she said it was her favorite place to go and think.

He fell into a chair and looked at all the materials on his desk, wishing that it could all be transported to the riverbank, where he could sit and work on all of his things in peace.

---

"Really though, dude," Kou began, his elbows on the table and his cheeks full of flattened noodles. "When are you gonna get some decent clothes, instead of just wearin' your track suit around all the time? What, are you in the Olympics or something? Chicks are never gonna go for that look, the way you're sportin' it. Nah, I'm tellin' you, one of these days we have to..."

They sat at the bar in Chinese Diner Aiya, the hue of the air taking the dark colorization of reds and yellows as many other men and women took time out of their busy schedules to sit down and eat a traditional meal. Kou was rambling on, as usual, when Daisuke suddenly interrupted him.

"Hey--when are you gonna call those chicks back for another blind date?"

Kou froze, looking slowly at his comrade.

"Wha--? Dude, you were the one who flaked out on them in the first place! When I was talking about dressing up for the girls, I meant for _new_ girls, not old ones. I mean, sure, they were great and all..." He paused to slurp up a stray noodle. "...but we missed our chances with them, man. You know that. They'd hate me if they thought we were trying to ditch 'em again. Remember? I told you before."

"Oh," Daisuke said, shrugging. He sat quietly. Kou, used to his best friend's silent personality, went on. "Besides..."

"...Yeah?"

"Besides that, if you could just get over your ex-girlfriend from _middle school_, I bet you'd find that there are a hell of a lot more fish in the sea. Especially for _you_."

Daisuke nodded, making a face of reluctant agreement. He thought for a second how often Kou got impatient with him with this sort of thing. Essentially reading his mind, Kou punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Ow..."

"Cheer up, man, it ain't _all_ bad. The girls would be all over you if you just gave them the time of day, even _with _your plain old track suit on. Hell, I even heard about _Ai Ebihara_ talking about you like she'd been checking you out. You're just a little denser than the rest of us. Shit happens."

They took a moment to finish their bowls.

"Well I better get on the bus," Kou said, putting down his chopsticks with satisfaction. "It's already dark out and I don't wanna miss the last one. Remember what happened last week?"

For the first time all day, Daisuke broke into a laugh. "Yeah, and I remember seeing your scrawny ass runnin' after it like you were gonna catch up to it--"

"Shut up," Kou said, hitting his shoulder again. Daisuke flinched. "Hey watch it, I hurt my shoulder today!" Kou made crying motions with his fists. "Aww, you gonna tear up? You gonna _cry_ in front of everybody?" He smiled and pushed Daisuke's head. "Later man."

"Later," Daisuke said, turning back to his empty bowl.

It took him a moment to realize what was happening.

He ran out the door of the restaurant and yelled to Kou down the street. "HEY!"

"Next time's on me, thanks bro!" Kou called out, his voice trailing further away. Daisuke walked back inside. Exasperated, he took a few thousand yen out of his wallet. _And of course, the bastard has to eat practically everything in the restaurant..._

He dropped the bills next to the empty bowls and grabbed his duffel bag. Swinging it back over his other shoulder, he walked out of the building. Before heading down the other end of the street, he paused and noticed the textile shop not too far away.

He wondered if he would ever tell Kou that maybe it wasn't that he was oblivious. That maybe, just maybe, it had been something else this whole time.


	3. Lingering

"So where do you think Naoto-kun's been, huh?" Rise asked, as she took a moment to straighten out her short uniform skirt. "I mean, now that you mention it, I don't think I've seen her in days."

"Dunno. But whatever she's up to, it's probably just personal stuff."

Rise nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're right...she is a detective and all. She's got more important things to do than sit here with us."

Kanji shrugged. "I just don't think it's a big deal. I have a feeling she ain't, like...in _danger_ or anything. I just...I guess I just _know_, you know?"

Rise giggled slyly. Realizing he had probably said the wrong thing to the wrong person, he slid down in his seat. "Ohoho, because if she was, she'd know _exactly _who to call, huh?" she asked playfully, nudging him. "Right?"

He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Uh..."

She stopped long enough to take on a look of seriousness. "Wait -- Kanji, you _did _hear the news though, right? You know, that they found out Naoto-kun's really a _girl_? Because I don't know if you'll still be interested..."

He sat up suddenly, taken by surprise.

"Aw, what the--? Would you quit that shit?!" Kanji exclaimed angrily. Rise went quiet. She looked around at the rest of the classroom, which had gone quiet also. As everyone stared at the two, Rise shrunk down from the desk she was sitting on and resumed her usual spot in a chair, crossing her legs as though nothing happened.

Kanji put his hands in his pockets and looked away, his voice somber in an attempt to mask his embarrassment. "No one's ever gonna give that up, huh? And what the hell do you know, anyway? You weren't even there."

Rise laughed softly. "Oh...Kanji, you know I'm just _teasing _you. I'd never mean any of it, I promise. Besides, I have my own Shadow story to live up to...I mean, can you imagine? Me, on a _stripper pole_? That's just crazy."

"Yeah, sometimes I'm not too sure about that," Kanji mumbled, observing Rise's breasts practically tumbling out of her uniform.

"What?" Rise asked.

"Nothing," Kanji said quickly, getting up from his seat. "Anyway, lunch's almost over. I'm gonna head to the bathroom."

"Don't have too much fun in there!" Rise called as he exited the room.

"Yeah, screw off."

---

When Daisuke walked into the boys' bathroom down the hall from his classroom, he nearly slipped on soap and wet paper towels that had been smeared across the floor. The room looked as though all of the toilets had exploded. Apparently a few of the third years took it upon themselves to have a toilet-paper war at the expense of the school's second-year students, and it also seemed that the place had yet to be discovered by the faculty. Though the delinquents had left, he wasn't about to be caught there at the wrong time.

He blinked, thinking for a second about the little bed of flowers his teacher had back in their classroom, and how ugly they were.

Deciding to use the first-floor bathroom instead, Daisuke walked out briskly, scratching his chest. He sidestepped and waded through the droves of his fellow students, clomping slowly back to their respective classrooms so that they'd be seated by the time their teachers returned. Once on the first floor he paced his step a little more carefully than the last time, walking centered down the hall, avoiding the doorways as he turned into the boys' restroom.

Much cleaner. The first-years were always too timid to make much of a mess of things, anyway. He went up to one of the urinals and unzipped his track pants.

His back stiffened.

That Tatsumi kid was standing at the urinal right next to him.

_Oh man, talk about getting pee shy._ As Daisuke's eyes wandered over slowly to see if Kanji had noticed him, their eyes locked, faces still pointed toward the wall.

The brunet turned away quickly and hoped that the beads of perspiration forming faintly on his forehead weren't noticeable. He made his expression as emotionless as possible, something he was already skilled at. He looked down at himself.

Finally, something came. Shoulders drooping with secret relief, he shifted a little more comfortably. This had never happened to him before. It was weird. He didn't like it. Noticing movement to his left, Daisuke allowed himself another sideways glance in that direction as Kanji shook himself, zipped up his pants, and walked out of the bathroom. He could feel eyes on his back, penetrating his clothes.

The bell rang as Daisuke zipped up.

"Ah, shit."

---

The other boys began sauntering off toward the locker rooms away from the field, taking their soccer balls with them under their arms. It was Daisuke's turn to put away the rest of the equipment for today.

He slowly walked along the white lines that had been painted onto the grass, picking up orange cones as he went. He breathed heavily; he got a good workout during practice, but if his team wanted to win the game against a rivaling school in a few weeks, they were going to have to try a lot harder than they did today.

He kicked the grass. He figured it was just more difficult right now, because the days have been growing longer and hotter and everyone's been sluggish as a result. He knew this, they knew it. It happened every year.

He stood straight, frozen suddenly in his tracks, the cones lazily hanging from a few of his fingers.

There he was again. Sitting in the back row of the bleachers, alone, his scuffed black shoes resting on the seats in front of him and his hand occasionally running through his white-blonde hair.

Daisuke watched him, wondering how long he had been there. Then, decidedly, he returned to his work. Once finished he made his way calmly back to the gym building, cones in hand and nets draped around his shoulders, bent over slightly, knowing he would be the last one left in the locker room by the time he was finished putting everything away.

Sure enough, as he sat on the concrete bench in front of a row of lockers, he watched the last few boys drag their feet out into the cooling late-afternoon air, their bags revealing the stray sleeves of their shirts and their knees stained with dry grass.

He sat up, heart pounding. A few minutes passed quietly as he remained there alone. He unstrapped his wrist guards, clinging themselves to his forearms with black velcro. He was slowly untying the tight laces that were strung around his cleats, when he heard the subtle tap of scuffed shoes as they entered the room. He looked up to see them make their way from the doorway and across the floor, all the way to where he sat before his open locker. His spare clothes spilled out of his bag as Kanji looked down at him, his hands at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching.

Daisuke looked down for a split second, then rose to his feet, meeting Kanji's eyes dead evenly. There weren't many other boys who challenged his height, but it looked as though he had finally found one.

They stood that way for a while, their gaze breaking only by the occasional flicker away at some unimportant detail, or at a random appendage stemming from the other's body.

Their jaws met fiercely, before either of them could process the information any longer.

Daisuke couldn't quite figure out what to do with his hands. Kanji knew where to put his, and he didn't waste any time grabbing the bottom of Daisuke's lightweight shirt and lifting it over his head, as his legs moved to push the other's body against the cold surface of a concrete wall.

As the soccer player moved one of his hands to his own chest self-consciously, Kanji's hand met it and began to guide it elsewhere; places where Daisuke was cautious to go. In the suddenness of everything that was occurring, the only thing Daisuke could do was to simply let it happen.

---

"Well, uh..." Kanji started, sitting with Naoto on the dock of the Samegawa. Embarrassed, he gazed into the water. "...what do you think about? You know...when you come here."

His voice trailed off awkwardly as they looked at each other. She turned away, eyes narrowed. She spoke quietly. "I come here when I'm assigned the occasional case to investigate, and when I require time to myself to ponder possibilities, evidence..."

She turned back to Kanji, his gaze still focused on her. "Kanji..." she began, clearing her throat. "To be honest, I didn't expect much of you when we first met. Well...not to say that I thought you weren't nice, or honest, or..." Her face broke into a half-smile. "...perhaps even a bit misunderstood." She watched his hand move across the back of his head, nervously. She sighed.

"Do you remember when I had begun doing research for the...the serial murder case? Before you and I really knew anything."

He nodded.

"I pretended not to...well, _pay attention_ to those things you had said to me; those feelings I sensed you had. Really, I had no choice but to put them aside and ignore them completely." She looked down. "Not only could I not afford to lose whatever professional credibility I had given myself in the process of solving a case, but..."

"..."

"...I also didn't think I could give myself the chance to be _that object_ to someone else. I mean, I didn't know whether to feel flattered, or embarrassed, or upset. It had never happened to me before. Especially considering..."

She sat back, her weight leaning against her hands. "...you didn't even know what I was." Her face was red, and her expression self-incredulous. "I...never would have imagined telling you all of this."

He grinned. "Well, I know what you are now." He reached up and took her hat away. Her hair shone a hue of dark blue in the afternoon's sun. Uncharacteristically, she took a moment to run her small, nimble fingers through it.

"And uh, I gotta admit, it wasn't an easy thing for me to tell myself either," Kanji continued. "But even if I do know what you are now, that hasn't really changed anything. I guess all it's done now is made me realize that...boy or girl, it doesn't really have to matter." He could feel a thin layer of sweat gathering on his forehead. "Just don't...don't tell anybody I said that. Okay?"

They sat in silence for a moment, watching the goldfish flutter beneath the surface of the slow, clear-green water of the river. From behind, his strong, broad back was oddly juxtaposed to hers, small and delicate. She turned away from him, the back of her neck burning. "I want you to know...that I'm still unsure, Kanji. I'm unsure of my own feelings. But you turned out to be so much more than what I had thought before. So much more than just a school bully."

He leaned forward, his mouth gently pressing against her ear.

"I guess keeping secrets does that to people."


	4. New

"Well I can't see how it could be anyone _other_ than Exon Z. He's always got some ulterior motives about something."

"What?! Yeah right, Exon Z doesn't have any ulterior motives except to blow shit up!"

Daisuke stood in the hallway with Kou and two other second-years; Kou arguing with them about the concepts behind the latest episode of their favorite crime-fighting-robot television show, Daisuke leaned against the wall passively, looking in another direction. He didn't know what they were talking about, nor did he care much; as far as he understood, television was a waste of his brain cells, and his time.

He shifted his legs. Well, that wasn't completely true. Sometimes he didn't want to do anything but sit down and watch soccer matches; skilled teams playing each other from around the country, sometimes the world. There were big tournaments that would go on in daily increments, and on most days if he didn't pass out once he walked in his house after practice he would plop down on a torn-up couch in his room and watch them on a small television set, interrupted periodically by his mother, who would tell him his room was a pigsty and ask him if he'd already eaten dinner. He would respond yes to both, his eyes glued to the screen.

It was after school at Yasogami High. Daisuke, Kou and their friends were planted in their spot outside the 2-2 and 2-1 classrooms on the second floor, waiting for the cluster of their fellow soccer mates to trickle out of the classrooms so they could make their way to the field outside, in time for practice at 4:00.

A familiar face appeared at the top of the second-floor staircase. It was the new girl in school, the celebrity, that Rise Kujikawa. Guys like Kou went nuts over girls like her, and the only reason Daisuke recognized her at all was because they ran into her while at the mall a few weekends ago with Souji; apparently she was his newest squeeze. Normally Daisuke wouldn't have given her a second glance, though, except for the fact that her escort was a particular person he recognized all too well.

The hue on Daisuke's tanned face instantly reddened, and he desperately began searching for something, anything to look at in this damned hallway...

Recognizing the pair from the mall, Rise's eyes caught onto the spot on which he and Kou were standing, and she smiled. As Kou's face lit up and as he wiped the drool from his lip, Daisuke looked up in time to meet Kanji's eyes with his own.

"Hi," she said.

As time slowed down for Kou while he waved at Rise ecstatically, time stopped for the other two. In a split second, their minds flashbacked to the same memory taken from the day before, when they had first met.

Though according to anyone they knew, they wouldn't recognize each other from anyone else.

Kanji's face stiffened with tension and he nodded his head once slightly toward Daisuke in acknowledgment, before further following Rise through the doorway of the 2-2 classroom.

Daisuke's brow furrowed, and he cleared his throat as his best friend whirled around and began to blather excitedly about how lucky their friend Souji was, nabbing the most popular girl in school.

Another sport he'd been getting into lately was boxing. He would slurp ramen out of a bowl, sporting the wifebeater that he wore once he was in his own room, and watch heavily-biceped men don colored puffs on their hands and hit each other with them. Between matches he would dash out of the room and take his nightly shower, running back through the hallway with his fists thrusting and his socked feet pounding, before jumping back onto his sunken sofa, stimulated by the action that he felt soccer lacked. It was so _confrontational_; there was no ball to kick while dancing around one another, or any nets toward which one needed to focus his energy. There was just the other person: there were his gloves, and there was his face. Right...

There.

As he witnessed Souji and his other second-year friends file out of the 2-2 classroom, he stole a glimpse at the characterized, halfway smirk that curled upon Kanji's scarred cheek as he towered by them, once again. And as Kou piped up and asked Souji if he was going to basketball practice that day, Daisuke turned away, feigning unfamiliarity, though an obvious expression of understanding was written across his face.

His stomach hurt.

---

It was getting dark outside, and he didn't even know the guy's name.

The metallic rows and concrete walls were like a gray maze to Kanji, who'd hardly been inside the place before. It had been so long since he'd attended his P.E. class he wasn't even sure if he remembered where his locker was.

He leaned against cold metal. Maybe he was sitting in front of it right now.

"Hey, so..." the other kid began slowly.

Kanji smirked, observing the tan mass of bare skin and muscle-defined limbs that sat before him. They had only stopped because this kid wanted to.

_Scared, probably,_ Kanji thought.

"I'm Nagase," the track-jacket kid said in a low voice. "Nagase Daisuke."

The two boys sat across the row from each other in the Yasogami High boys' locker room. Daisuke hesitated, then extended his hand reluctantly.

Kanji looked at it for a second. At that moment, a formal handshake seemed a bit redundant. But he shook it anyway.

"Kanji Tatsumi," Kanji responded unnecessarily.

Daisuke grunted faintly; a cue for the both of them to look away from each other and observe their surroundings. They had time to think now.

"So what's up?" Kanji asked after a few seconds of silence.

Daisuke, eyes cast downward, scratched the back of his head. "I, uh..." he started, unsure of how to respond.

"I said what's wrong, man, what's up?"

"Sorry man, I just...couldn't do this here."

"Why not?"

A shrug.

Kanji's heart fell slightly in his chest. "...So that's it, then?"

Daisuke looked up suddenly, surprised. "W-well, what is it you want?"

A jolt of interest showed on Kanji's face as his weight shifted from his hindquarters to his hands, splayed on the ground around Daisuke's legs, their faces inches from each other.

"...is this a usual thing for you or something?"

"Huh?"

"I'm sayin', have you done this before?"

Kanji grinned, and their lips touched again.

---

Slam.

"Is that you, boy?"

Daisuke stood in the doorway of his house, duffel bag in one arm and backback slung around the other. His shoulders drooped. His brain still hadn't fully registered what had happened that day.

"Yep," he responded. His ears perked as he anticipated an off-color comment from his father, who wasn't usually home this early.

_The Konishi's liquor place must be closed or something_.

After another moment had passed and Daisuke received no other response from the living room area of his house, he began making his way up the staircase to his room.

"Where the hell you been?"

Daisuke stopped in his tracks. His chest panged with guilt.

"Practice, dad."

"Practice?"

"Soccer, dad."

A grunt.

Hurrying the rest of the way to his room to avoid any further confrontation, Daisuke threw his bags on his ripped, sunken sofa and slammed his door shut in one swift motion. As he made his way to his bed, his fingers moved across the wifebeater he had pulled hastily across his torso less than an hour ago, scratching his chest.

He couldn't for the life of him figure out what he was going to do about any of this.

Listlessly groping for the remote control, he kicked off his cleats and turned on the television set with his foot.

It was one thing when it was merely a thought, just an idea, that stayed inside his head. It was easy to keep it to himself then. But now that it no longer was a secret, was he any better off than before? Was he doomed now to live out his own future out in the open to somebody else?

_With this Tatsumi kid?_

Body aching, he pondered about what was supposed to happen next, or what he was supposed to do. He wasn't sure when he would see Kanji, or how he would react if they passed by each other in the halls. Would he say hello? Would he tell his friends?

He wondered if all of this made him gay.

Pulling off his socks, he frowned to himself.

_Well, no..._

As the reflection in his brown eyes blurred the images that flashed on the television screen beside him, his head hung. When his kicking leg had thrust his foot into a soccer ball and flung it into the opponent's net, there was no way to reverse the points his team gained. Something like that couldn't just be taken away.

The only certain thing was that there wasn't any going back.


	5. Rub

"You never answered me."

The rain pattered softly against the windowpane, its sound drowning out the other noises usually accompanying a Sunday morning. Daisuke had decided that it would be a good idea to go out for a jog.

("That was a stupid thing to tell your parents," Kanji said, to which Daisuke responded, "Screw off, it wasn't raining earlier.")

Kanji's bedsheets were tangled around his feet. He reached over Daisuke's body to open the blinds slightly.

"Never answered what?"

"When I asked if you'd...you know, done this before."

Kanji sat upright against the wall, scratching the stubble on his chin with his hand. "What difference does that make?"

"Why won't you tell me?"

Silence. As he played with his hands, Daisuke's eyes scanned the walls and the series of hard edges that furnished the room. He thought it was a bit risky, coming here when there was a shop just downstairs, but Kanji convinced him that no one would bother them upstairs. Looking around the place, he wasn't surprised.

Before, he was just nervous.

"No beatin' around the bush with you, huh?"

The other boy sat in silence, brows furrowed.

"Alright, well..." Kanji spoke hesitantly. "...I can't say...that I haven't had, you know, my thing with other people before..."

Daisuke's ears perked. Kanji was thinking of someone in particular.

"...I mean, not to say there was ever really like a _girlfriend_ or...a _boyfriend_ thing that I ever went along with," he went on, shrugging. "I just like to...you know, hang out with people, sometimes do a little this, do a little that. And if it doesn't work out that way then, y'know, so be it. That's it."

"Yeah?" Daisuke asked in a low voice, his curiosity unappeased. Kanji nodded. He moved his legs closer to his body and looked away vaguely.

As he considered fishing for more answers, Daisuke pulled the covers over himself self-consciously and reached over the bed to a pair of running sweats he had flung onto the floor, before moving under the covers, putting them on. "Well..." he started, "...why'd you decide to do that?"

Kanji looked at him almost incredulously. "What do you mean?"

"What you said," Daisuke continued, pulling a leg of his pants over his foot, "about the boyfriend girlfriend thing. You just not into commitment or something?"

"Well then, what's _your_ deal, huh?" Kanji shot back defensively. "You just mess around with the little boys on your soccer team? Is there orgy time in the locker room after practice or what?"

"What are you saying?"

"Pff...exactly."

Daisuke frowned. He rubbed his nose and pulled the wifebeater hanging around his neck down the rest of his torso, his head facing downward at the sheets in front of him.

"I'm sayin' I've never done anything like this with another dude before, that's all."

An aura of recoil seemed to suddenly radiate from Kanji's half-nude body, his piercings flashing in the dim light - not as much in surprise, but more as though Daisuke had touched upon another subject Kanji preferred not to talk about. He raised his eyebrows, however, in nonchalance. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean why not?"

"Well it seems like it's your gig, ain't it?"

"...Well..."

The boys' blunt manner of speaking went cold for a moment as Daisuke paused, figuring out how to present information to this strange other person. Before he could, Kanji broke in.

"Look man, I gotta be honest with ya. I kinda figured from the get-go."

Daisuke's chin bounced in agreement, and almost in embarrassment. "Yeah? How'd you figure that?"

A chuckle. "Do you really wanna know?"

Daisuke found a pillow and threw it at Kanji's head, ending the discussion. A look of surprise took over his face, before he turned and grinned.

Looking at Kanji, Daisuke braced himself for the blistered punk's lean body to force itself on top of him a second later.

"And what do you think _you're_ doing, huh?" Kanji interrogated, breathing into Daisuke's neck. "Puttin' on your clothes like you're gonna just up and leave? Huh? S'that right?"

"--mmm--" A rare smile broke from Daisuke's face. He held his breath, as though he was being tickled.

"Hehe...right?"

The room went silent again, the air punctuated by the rubbing sound of warm skin. Turning toward each other, their hands and lips explored to the spots on each others' bodies that by now had become somewhat familiar.

The environment outside as well as the nature of their condition caused a wavy uncertainty in the boys' respective measurements of time. After another short while passed, Daisuke remembered where he was and and pushed Kanji's hands away from his privates.

"...time is it?" Daisuke thought aloud, fidgeting with his zipper. Kanji gazed away from Daisuke's fit body mass to an analog clock ticking away on the opposite wall. He motioned with his chin. "S'over there."

The brunet's head moved along the wall next to the bed, as he turned to face the clock. After a moment, he frowned. All the numbers on the clock were mixed up.

"Hey, what--"

Kanji chuckled. "It's just backwards. You're supposed to read it counterclockwise. I got it at a joke shop a while ago."

"I didn't even notice that before." Daisuke sat up and squinted at the contraption. "That's pretty funny. Why would you have a thing like that? What's the point?"

Kanji scratched his cheek in thought. The quiet thwacking sound of the rain was calming, and helped him focus.

"I guess it's to remind me that not everything is always as it seems."

---

"Is this about your ex-girlfriend from middle school again?"

It seemed that the more Daisuke battled with his inner self, Kou became more and more of his muse. A muse that usually couldn't get anything completely right.

"No. What are you talking about?" Daisuke's arms were crossed. The two were sitting aside one another in their homeroom class, waiting to go to their respective sports practices after school.

"Come on, Daisuke, I thought we were over this," Kou continued, distractedly stuffing his papers into his backpack, followed by a mumbled, "Get in there, you stupid shit..."

"We are," Daisuke said.

"Then why you been acting all mopey lately?" Kou zipped up his pack and pulled it onto his desk. "Like your great-granny finally died or something. How old is she now, anyway--"

"Hey, don't talk like that," Daisuke snapped.

"Well, did she?"

"No, she's fine, what are you--"

"Then what's your problem? For one thing, this kind of attitude is a real bummer, 'specially when our next big game is less than two weeks away."

Daisuke became defensive. "Well it isn't my ex-girlfriend--"

"Then it must be some new broad then, huh?"

"A broad? Like some girl? I didn't tell you about any girl."

"Exactly, so spill the beans man! Who, is it Amagi-san? Ebihara-san?"

Kou leaned back in his chair and looked at his best friend expectantly, continuing with a one-sided discussion of all the girls he could think of off the top of his head. Daisuke was used to interrogation, but not as much lately. He figured Kou was used to his silence as well, but that came with the brief periods of time when the black-haired boy had nothing to babble on about, no gossip to tell, no new girls to try and conquer (emphasis: "try"). In a slightly detached way, Daisuke imagined his role as _Kou's_ go-to, as _his_ muse. And, in a similarly subconscious fashion, Kou became excited at the concept of the tables being turned in their relationship, where Daisuke would be the one to speak of others judgmentally, to analyze his own thoughts on the things that he cared about. To be the one who could admit his own deeper feelings.

It was like when Daisuke watched boxing. There was no beating around the bush, no tiptoeing around any questions to get the answers. The answers that others sought were either told by him, or they weren't. It was as simple as that.

But more frequently, lately, he was the one who had the questions.

---

The midafternoon sun's shadows cast their way through the windows in the second-floor hallway at Yasogami High, and as the school's internal structure took on a hue of sepia, Daisuke's white shoes squeaked against the tile floor. They were worn, and they no longer captured the surrounding light. He was walking toward the staircase leading down to the first floor when he bumped into Kanji making his way up. Though it was only their second encounter in the school's hallways, Daisuke's attitude was progressively less wary than before. "Hey," he said to the slick-haired boy.

Kanji's bad posture dominated his attitude as he stopped in his tracks. "Hey, uh, what's up."

"Nothin'. Are you coming up to meet Souji?"

Kanji nodded. "Yep." Awkwardly cracking his knuckles and searching for something to talk about, he finally landed upon, "So, what, you got soccer practice now or somethin'?"

Daisuke nodded, scratching his chest. "Yeah, every other day starting Tuesday of every week. But a lot of us try and get in some extra time though, right now especially..."

"Yeah?"

"Yep. Got a game comin' up."

"'Gainst who?"

"Gekoukkan. Up north."

"Oh, I think I heard about that place. Up in the city. Heard our school was havin' a class trip up there in a few months or something."

"Yeah, yeah. Where'd you hear that?"

"I dunno, around."

"Well 'cause you're not really at school that often, are you?"

"Haha, yeah, s'a miracle I'm here today. But I got some stuff to take care of with Souji and them, so..."

"Alright, cool."

Kanji's eyes darted, head bobbing, and Daisuke's hands found their way into his pockets, fingers cracking. That moment in their conversation came early; where nothing was worth words, and where both privately wished to express their concern for the other, yet neither knew how. After a few seconds of lingering with an increasing burning sensation each felt within their chests, they both then focused on how to end today's encounter in a public space. Kanji's eye contact with inanimate objects stopped only when Daisuke next spoke.

"So," the brunet said, looking around himself almost casually. Taking the initiative was something Kanji himself had taught him. "When do you wanna meet up again?"

Kanji frowned and pretended to be confused. "What are you talkin' about, buddy?"

Daisuke cocked his head and half-smiled. "Come on, man," he said, reaching around and tapping Kanji's behind.

"Wh--!"

Kanji suddenly grabbed Daisuke by the shirt collar and pushed him into the staircase corner, against the wall.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he snarled.

Daisuke sputtered. "Wh-what are you talking--?"

"Where the hell do you think you're coming off askin' me something like that, huh?"

Daisuke struggled. "What are you talking about you prick, I didn't--"

"Didn't?" Kanji banged him against the wall once more. "Didn't what, you little--!"

Their eyes were inches apart, each pair expressing a look of anger and confusion. They stared at each other for a few seconds in tense silence, before noticing the crowd they were drawing from the other students. Kanji, poised in a standard bully position, eased his grip on Daisuke's jacket. He broke free and retreated a few steps back, still facing his opponent.

They panted. Nothing was happening. Knowing their moment for further speech would not happen in the midst of an audience, the two continued standing there and waited for the crowd to wane.

Once enough kids lost interest and left the scene, Kanji's fists unclenched and he motioned to Daisuke with his head to follow him. Slowly, he did. They made their way to the nearest exit door. They still scowled. They caught the attention of a few wandering first-years in the halls, a few of whom whispering to one another about the incredulity of the sight of a leathered punk in the same vicinity as the school's jock.

Kicking the door open, Kanji led the way outside from the first floor and toward the back of the high school's practice building. Once sure that they were completely alone, he turned on his heel to face Daisuke.

"What the hell do you think you were doing back there?" he asked again, only slightly less menacingly this time.

Cheeks red, Daisuke turned away. "Just talking, man. Why'd you blow up on me like that? I don't see what the big deal was."

The angrier Kanji became, the more his hands spoke for him. "You tryin' to tell the whole world about your shit, Daisuke? Huh?"

It was only now that Daisuke realized that when speaking to Kanji, he was not regarded with the respect of his upperclassman; his "senpai".

"You mean you and me? Why are you making such a big stink about it?"

Kanji's hands flew into the air. "What do you think you and me _are_, you dumbass?! You think I'm your boyfriend or some shit? Like you can just touch on me in front of the whole goddamn school and have it be no big deal? You clueless or something?"

"No big deal? You're the only one who's making it that way--"

"Yeah, 'cause I don't know where you're gettin' off tryin' to pat me down in the middle of the school! Didn't anybody tell you how to keep your shit to yourself?"

"Me? Why the hell--"

"Because I dunno about you, but _I'm_ not tryin' to make myself a bigger fucking target than I already am!"

"A _target_? Look man, none of this would've happened if you hadn't been following me like some stalker!"

"So you gonna blame it on me, now?!" Kanji yelled. "Huh?!"

The boys were in the middle of a staredown, teeth clenched and veins protruding. Hot sweat began to form on the backs of their necks and down their spines. In a few hours the cicadas would begin screeching.

"You're a part of all this just as much as I am," Daisuke growled. "So don't just..._use_ me and pretend like nothing's happened. I'm not your girl, Kanji. Don't fucking lie."

"What's to lie about? This is just how life _works,_ you dumbass. And it ain't just you and me, either. Everybody's into this shit. Every man's got an itch that only another guy can scratch." He kicked the dirt, speaking less loudly. "So you and me, we ain't special. Don't single me out."

There was a short pause. The tension in the air fused with the afternoon heat, the waves floating around them distortedly.

"Maybe if you didn't want to be a target you shouldn't have gotten all that shit pierced on your face."

Kanji's fist met Daisuke's mouth. He gasped, before swinging his own knuckles into Kanji's cheek.

The dirt below their feet formed a cloud beneath their scuffle. They knew no one else would come. No one else would break them up; kicking, scratching, they were alone. Only they would decide how their day was going to end.

Maybe watching all those boxing shows turned out to be more useful to Daisuke than he thought.


	6. Weird

Naoto and Souji stood feet apart from one another, their hair curling in the occasional wind that swept across the floodplain. The light from the sun reflected bright green from the grass upon which their toes were planted, and the particles that blew from the midday flowers sifted through the air. Naoto's face was turned away as she gazed across the field to the river on the bank nearby.

"And, so, what about him?" Souji asked. "Do you know something?"

Naoto breathed inwardly and responded hesitantly, "You know how much I trust you." Souji gray hair bounced as he nodded.

Locks of jet blue hair strung across Naoto's face as a look of quiet curiosity overtook it.

"Well, I understand that the ambiguity behind his..." Naoto started, trying her best not to sound like a gossip. "...shadow, his alter-ego, all those things Yosuke teases him about. And I understood it was something I don't have much right to analyze; despite his initial misunderstanding of my own sex, I wasn't present for any of his admittance. But right now, it seems...as though something isn't quite right. As though after all, there is something else to him that we hadn't expected."

"So," Souji said thoughtfully after a pause. "What does that have to do with you?"

The gazebo provided little shade today, its brown wooden pillars pointing downward beneath the earth; beside Naoto and Souji, its body hovered, and its shadow crept slowly along the earthy floor of the field. The bench was where Souji normally sat with Naoto, and it was where he and Kanji used to sit as well.

"I think he's found someone else," she said sadly.

---

"So I heard, like..." Kou began to say, his mouth full of noodles. He munched in silence for another moment while Daisuke stared at him. "Heard what?" he asked impatiently.

More chewing.

Kou's bowl jumped as Daisuke's fist pounded the table in front of him. "Heard what?!" he repeated impatiently.

Kou swallowed. "Heard you had a little disagreement with that gangbanger kid Tatsumi at school yesterday."

The hairs on the back on Daisuke's neck stood rigid as his brain registered what Kou was saying. His mind jumped instantly to guilt, and though he knew any real reason for it would be ridiculous, he stammered, desperately racking his brain for excuses.

"I, uh, well..."

Kou raised an eyebrow. "Well?" He scooped the last bits of noodle into his mouth with his chopsticks. "Why didn't you tell me, anyway?"

"Who'd you hear that from?"

A shrug, mouth still full. "I dunno, some kid from the team. Said Kanji went all crazy on you and pushed you against the wall and shit. Said you two were about to get it on. Said he saw it."

Daisuke's bruises pulsated delicately on his torso and his legs. He suddenly felt very grateful that there were none on his face. "Uh...yeah." He crossed his arms in thought. "Nah, it wasn't that big of a deal, we were just...talking, and I guess I said something he didn't like and he got all mad."

Kou was dumbfounded. "Wha--? What were you talking about? And do you know him or something? What made you two decide to start talking in the first place?"

"Dunno. I don't remember."

Kou continued to stare at him, jaws still grinding. After they sat still for another moment, Daisuke unresponsive, Kou turned away again as his interest in the matter finally waned. "Pretty weird, though," he added. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Daisuke's empty bowl, its owner leaning against the table in front of it, glancing about himself pensively, lost in his own world.

Kou sighed and pulled out his wallet. "Don't worry about the tab," he said, slapping down a couple thousand yen. "This one's on me."

They sat in a bubble of silence for another minute, as the hue of the restaurant hid the rest of its patrons in its reddened shadows.

---

"Why do you always wear that track shit?"

"My what?"

"Yeah, and what's that thing on your face? That plastic thing. You're always wearin' it. Did you break your nose or something?"

Kanji and Daisuke stood separately in the dark room, late sunlight flowing through the window underneath hastily-opened blinds. The room was otherwise silent; they could hear the shuffling of slippered feet on the first floor of the textile shop below.

Daisuke's arms were crossed again as he tentatively walked further into the room. "Almost," he joked darkly. Kanji sighed as he turned around to face the jock, his own hands in his pockets.

The smirk slid off of Daisuke's face as he reached up to touch his nose. "This is a nose plaster. It makes it so I can breathe more easily when I'm running around out on the field."

"You're not on any field now."

"I know, I'm just used to it being there."

They studied each other sideways for a moment. "And I just got off practice."

Kanji fidgeted with the rings in his ear. "And then you decided to come here. Out of nowhere."

Daisuke nodded, leaning against the door closed behind him.

"Why?"

A shrug. "I thought I'd just...try and resolve some differences or something, that's all."

"Heh...that's big of you."

Aside from his sarcastic comment, an expression of merely having heard what Daisuke said appeared on Kanji's face, but nothing more. Kanji's hand reached to the table behind him and he picked up a flask. Daisuke frowned.

"Is that booze?"

It seemed more than ever that Kanji assumed Daisuke's usual role of unresponsiveness to very pointed questions. Kanji pointed the mouth of the flask toward Daisuke, his eyebrows raised in a question mark. "Scotch?"

"No thanks, man, I don't drink."

"That right? Why not?"

Daisuke's mind flashed to his father, who only came home late.

"It's just not my thing."

Kanji took a short swing from the metal container and put it back down. "Suit yourself." They looked away from one another, before Kanji cleared his throat, leaning with his hands against the desk behind him. It took a moment for Daisuke to recognize the familiar look on Kanji's face, there existing a deep wildness he had caught in his eyes.

"So, what do you wanna do?"

Daisuke frowned. "Uh, wait..."

Kanji pushed himself away from the table as he wandered toward Daisuke. "Wait for what?"

Daisuke took a step backward. "So that's it, then? Everything's good?"

Kanji stopped, cocking his head slightly.

"You're not still mad about the other day?"

Kanji broke his linear route across the room by facing away from the puzzled Daisuke, scratching his elbow. "Well the way I see it," he began, in a sudden state of clarity. "There's ain't no helping what's been done. I did what I felt I had to do."

"Why are you so god damn weird?"

Kanji looked surprised. "Wh-what the hell are you talkin' about?"

Arms still crossed, more or less in frustration now, Daisuke began pacing the small space beside the doorway. "First you start stalking me at school, then you follow me to the locker rooms. Then you send me text messages on when to show up at your house...and then you get pissed at me when I actually see you at school? And now everything's _fine_?!"

Kanji glanced at his door, concerned with Daisuke's rising volume level. "Hey man, what--"

Daisuke stopped. "And so, Kanji, what is all this gonna lead to? What am I _supposed_ to think?

A fan slowly rotated the gravity of Daisuke's sudden outburst of emotions around the room like a smell. It wafted over Kanji, who took another drink from his flask.

"Well Daisuke," he finally said, smirking a little. "Do you want the truth, or do you want it sugar-coated?"

Daisuke stood his ground, staring.

"Alright." Kanji shrugged off his leather jacket, tossing it readily onto his bed. "You, and me. You and me do something that most other people...don't really do."

It began to dawn on Daisuke that he was being patronized, and his attitude became more defensive than before. Though he may have been a bit slower than his peers, the last thing he felt he needed was a lecture from a minor.

"But at the same time," Kanji went on. "We ain't the only ones. I _know_ there are others like us at our school who've been there. Who've done what we have. I know for myself. But that's just it; you gotta find out for yourself."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It means that I've _seen_ this shit, man. I know how it works. You find somebody, you fuck around with them, and that's it. And it ain't meant to be big news to other people. Hell, as far as you're concerned, you can do all you want with another person and still not know a single god damned real thing about 'em."

Daisuke remained silent, his cheeks turning rosy.

"But...there's a _reason_ for the secrecy, man. There's a _reason _why nobody hears about it. S'because it's not...it's not socially accepted. Society don't really want us out and about with our business in _public_."

"You mean like you?"

Kanji looked surprised, then smirked. "Heh...well, I guess that's kinda true." He thought of his dolls that he'd sewn, stashed away in his closet and hidden from sight.

"But you're a type of guy who isn't like anybody else, anyway," Daisuke added, brows still furrowed. "So why do you care so much about this?"

Kanji shrugged. "I guess it's habit. Drama free...well, at least, it's _s'posed_ to be." He moved forward once more, kicking off his boots as he approached Daisuke slowly at the other end of the room. "So for now let's just forget it."

"But then I don't understand why things are the way they are..." Daisuke continued thoughtfully after a brief pause. "...when so many of us have all this in common."

Kanji's teeth flashed as his face fell forward; pushing into Daisuke's pelvis, he pressed into Daisuke's ear with his lips. He whispered huskily, booze still stained on his breath.

"What the hell makes you think that you and me have anything in common?"


	7. Next

Kanji felt the cold wind pushing slowly against his back as he made his way down the street from his house.

He had forgotten what day of the week it was. He hadn't been doing enough lately to care. Unsure of what books or notes he should bring to school, he made the decision easy on himself that morning and simply chose not to bring any.

_Weird_, he thought to himself, pondering what had been spoken to him within the past two weeks.

_Acting weird, huh?_

"Did you hear?" the other students whispered in class as their eyes burned into the back of Kanji's neck.

"Hear what?"

"Kanji-kun's been hangin' around the soccer jock, the one with the plaster on his face."

"_What?_ You mean Nagase, that second-year? I heard he only hangs around that new kid Seta and his friends, what's with that anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

His boots scuffed along the pavement.

"He just sits there and talks shit to anybody who tries to say anything to him, even girls. Do you think he's gay or something weird?"

Reaching up with his forefingers to flick his nose, his dark eyes scanned the gray horizon. The fog had been slowly seeping back into Inaba; the air carried a forlorn feeling with it inside the density of the gray skyless cloud.

He imagined once again what it was like to sit upon the grassy riverbank with her.

"Why can't you talk about anything, Kanji?" Naoto had insisted on asking.

Kanji felt bristled by her questions; her words were the dagger-like claws of a cat on his back. He faced away to protect himself.

"You were so open just the other week. Now you'll hardly say a word."

Kanji didn't remember when it first was; when he first gazed out the window of his classroom and saw it. Saw them. Saw him.

He hunched over into his knees, gazing into the green abyss that flowed before him. The water was clear once.

"It's..."

Naoto's eyes narrowed beneath the bill of her cap.

"I'm just so god damned _confused_."

Was it worth the relationship, the risk of getting caught up in another person he accidentally cared about? Kanji remembered his shoulders rumbling as he shivered; the wind that dug its nails deeper between the fibers of their clothes pinched at his skin and swept his emotions away.

"..._all_ of the _time_."

He passed by the nearest residential district. Souji Seta's dark wooden house stood solidly against the ground, unplucked brown shreds of grass sticking out from between the cracks in the sidewalk. There was an orange cat. Kanji's brow furrowed as he cocked his head. There was always an orange cat there.

His fingers moved to the back of his white-haired head, scratching it.

The room in his house had been lonely lately. For weeks he had put a halt on his hobby of doll-making.

"What's wrong with you?" his mother asked. "Why aren't you helping me in the store? You know those kids are going to be disappointed, Kanji, _really_."

His hands flitted inside his pockets. He tried not to show how incredibly fidgety he was.

His thoughts gravitated back to when his door slammed. The walls were wavy; he remembered smiling, but his lips had taken on a sinister curl. He had felt it. His fingers had strummed against that spot in Daisuke's thigh, where no one else's hand had been before. It seemed like forever since then.

"What do you mean, nothing in common?!"

After that, there had only been one time that they met.

The small-town road snaked steadily into his feet as the metal in his nose and ears glinted sharply in the cold. His eyebrows knit into a customary scowl and his neck hung over his collarbone as the concept, the reasoning, behind what he was doing at this very moment moved in and out of his consciousness like a fly.

Whatever it was, it had been bubbling inside him ever since it all started. The truth was, it was easy to hide behind the image of a grim and hormonal teen.

Kanji reached into the innards of his leather coat and extracted his flask. He drank from it. His brain was a narrative collage of colors; feelings that hid inside the dark, punk tones of his clothing. The feeling of the palm of his hand wiping against his jeans left a familiar memory in the back of his brain.

The memory of those stupid track pants.

---

After days of receiving groveling text messages, Daisuke picked his phone up from the middle of his bed where he had thrown it. The team had been taking more days after school to practice recently, as they steadily moved their way up in the ranks of the surrounding regional districts.

But it was just another day. The darkness of the room cocooned around him, except for a pale glow that shone from the television set as the dim colors seizured against his tired face. There was barely sound; Daisuke had lowered the volume on the screen daily by small increments until it was nearly muted, as each day he found himself wishing to hear himself think, while watching the men with boxing gloves try and knock each other down. He loved his own sport, but he wasn't sure anymore of what was truly refreshing to him.

Thumping back down in his sunken seat, he remembered his nose plaster and tore it off. He held it in front of his eyes: the small piece had lost a considerable amount of stiffness around the edges, and it had turned cream-colored from dust and dirt. He reached over to place it delicately on his cramped bed stand, his gaze moving back to the TV.

As Daisuke flipped open his cell phone, a fluttering feeling began to boil in his chest. He paused as he listened to the barely-audible sound from the televised match, before moving his fingers over the keypad, tapping them quickly. He used his other hand to pick subconsciously at his privates through his sweats as he thought about how he was going to deal with Kanji.

Or, more importantly, how he was going to deal with himself.

---

"Hey."

Kanji's voice was low. His heels dug into the flayed carpet, the back of his jeans rubbing against the windowsill. His shadow projected by the moon behind him sunk faintly into the dim light of Daisuke's room; a lamp next to the TV spilled yellow against their faces as their eyes caught.

At first, Daisuke said nothing. Then he murmured, "Come inside, I don't want a draft in here."

Kanji slid the rest of the way into his room. His focus broke away from Daisuke as his eyes wandered around the room, from soccer poster to poster. The walls weren't the same color he had expected them to be.

"S'like, orange..." he said aloud, as Daisuke pulled the window shut behind him.

"What?"

"Nothin', just..."

He fell backwards onto Daisuke's bed. "Nice place."

Daisuke still remained standing beside his window, nodding, glancing about his room for food containers, socks he had masturbated into, anything he had meant to clean up before Kanji's arrival but forgotten.

"So what's goin' on?" the blonde boy asked, attempting to make his tone casual.

Daisuke shrugged. They looked, but it was different now. Now they studied each other, watching each other's brains operate through their pupils.

"So..."

Kanji's expression was curious as Daisuke stood in front of him. Legs straddled, their faces pulled together like gravity and very soon they lay atop one another, stomachs sweating and articles of clothing gone. After moving apart from each other beneath the covers, Daisuke lay on his side, picking at the front of his wifebeater between grasps of Kanji's naked torso. His brown hair was ruffled, as usual.

"Kanji."

A grunt. He faced away from Daisuke, cheek nestled atop the sheets, smelling the deep scent of the boy's sleep inside the fabric.

"Do you think things will stay like this?"

If Daisuke had noticed Kanji shifting in place before, he noticed the lack of motion that came from him now. The pause sunk into the room like a poisonous gas.

"Well, again...do you want the truth, or you want it sugar-coated?"

Daisuke's eyes darted, his weight resting upon his elbows as he lay halfway-up.

"Just tell me."

"You know...I think I love you."

Daisuke was momentarily subdued by shock. For a second, he felt for the first time as though there was no boundary between them any longer; he could have said anything and it wouldn't have been strange. It was almost euphoria.

"You didn't answer me," Daisuke finally pressed.

Kanji still faced away silently.

"Will we?"

"......"

"Will we?"

The feeling fluttered in his throat. The walls moved calmly into their space, the light from the lamp forming pressure in the air, leaving the setting of the moment imprinted in their minds forever.

"No."

---

Kanji's feet stopped at the gate. The fog was letting up, but barely.

The sound of a ball thumping against cleated feet punctuated the otherwise still environment; the color of the grass spread across the ground was astonishingly bright compared to the rest of Inaba, and Kanji imagined touching it with a feeling of something freshly wet, as in the early morning. He looked around to see if anyone else was there. He fingered carefully the cold bar on the gate and opened it, sliding through the metal quietly as he watched the soccer players sweep over each other in patterns.

He tiptoed his way across the green. There were clapping sounds; the players in orange made a goal.

Daisuke's breath was heavy, but his lungs springy; his knees buckled steadily in sync with his running feet. Despite the gloomy weather, beads of sweat shone on his cheekbones as he darted between blades of grass. So far Yasogami held the advantage against the other team; they came from the nearest town south of Inaba, and they wore black.

"Nice one, Ishitaka!" Daisuke bellowed to his teammate. Rubbing his face against the short sleeve of his shirt, he glanced to see someone sitting at a far end of the empty bleachers. It was another second before he realized who that person was.

A flock of ducks swam low through the air above Kanji's head as he watched Daisuke. Their eyes locked, their faces stolid; for a moment, the two boys endured the familiar chilling feeling of knowing the other was there. Daisuke turned away as he walked back into position, looking back once more as Kanji stuffed his hands inside his leather jacket, shivering slightly. The same boiling feeling curled slowly inside their chests. The grass chipped and smeared onto the players' cleats as another goal was blocked, and their breath formed clouds of smoke that dissipated into the cold air. Daisuke went silent, as he often did when he played, but this time there were no congratulatory pats or words of encouragement at the end of a round after a teammate executed a proper pass or a successful intervention. The only sounds that came from lips as he darted back and forth were the quiet pants and grunts.

He played this way until there was suddenly less than a minute left of time in the game. The sun had gravitated closer to the horizon behind the thick layers of fog, and he found himself standing at the end of a line before their net, his hands held behind his back. There was a chirping sound somewhere nearby; the leaves and the newly-sprouted blossoms hung still on the trees like glue.

A thump; Daisuke narrowed his eyes toward the oncoming ball, and leapt upward as he braced himself for an impact against the forefront of his damp hair. As the soccer ball flung itself up into the sky, it took a weight in Daisuke's stomach with it, and the opposing team players move their hands against their own bodies in awkward places, knowing they had lost.

A rough grin cracked on his face, and as the other Yasogami players held each others' shoulders and extended their hands to their opponents, Daisuke's head turned back toward the naked bleachers to find them empty.

His torso swayed with the congratulatory claps on his back and front; the feel of teenage hands caressing him smoothly played in slow-motion in his mind as he stood there, watching Kanji move slowly away with his hands in his pockets. Etiquette slipped from Daisuke's thoughts as his heart leapt into his throat. He had a feeling that he had missed an opportunity, a chance to say anything he had wanted to say, but couldn't recall what any of it was. As Kanji reached the gate, he looked back, straightening his shoulders slightly, before slipping back between the chain-link fence one last time. The wet air began to form droplets in the sky. Daisuke stood quietly in the drizzle as he realized the chapter in his life was ending; between kids like them, there was no final word. There was no final goodbye. And as he felt his own fingers rub subconsciously against his thigh, he gazed out across the first love he had ever had, walking away from him, at the other end of the field.

---

end


End file.
